when popcorn could easily solve the problem better than I could

Peanut gave me two hours of tantrum-marathon this afternoon. It all began with me expressing kindness to a kid, let’s call him MK, with whom Peanut has some differences. He isn’t fond of the MK, and even though they are in the same grade, they aren’t in the same class. Peanut does not usually play with MK after school, and they aren’t that close knit.  About three weeks ago, MK and his sister (PP’s 3rd grade classmate) came to borrow my phone to call their mom who didn’t show up at school to pick them up. It was raining, so I talked to the mom and offer to give the kids a ride home since they live two blocks away from us. That’s when I began noticing and observing them, and through a few snippets of conversation here and there, I have developed an empathy for them.

Today the sister came and asked me for a ride home again because it was raining and their mom was in the middle of doing something at home (we have had a lot of rain in SD this month). A small argument took place between Peanut and MK during the ride, and although I could not see from the rearview mirror, MK smacked Peanut in the eye or forehead (info came to me from Peanut) claiming that Peanut touched his hair. I was trying to defuse the tension while driving by asking both to be nice, and I was critical of Peanut a little bit. After I dropped off the kids, Peanut began to cry and said that I love other kids than I love him by taking their side and not his.

Certainly it was such a fallacy, but I couldn’t logically reason with him when he was that upset.

But anyway, to make a two-hour marathon of tantrum into short verses, Peanut accused me of faking my love for him. Everything about me loving him has been a lie, and I did it for his money.


Yes, he said that. I am still befuddled at what he truly meant or whether or not he understood the meaning of what he said.

I wanted to laugh, but I held myself back.

Nevertheless, I stayed so calm for two hours. Two freaking hours that drained most of my energy. But I remained calm, and logical. I invited him to lie down with me on his bed, I let him wail and cry, I stroked his back and massaged his forehead. I possibly did everything I could…to calm myself down and not let my anger override my reasoning.

It was hard.



He stopped crying, snorted out a large quantity of nasal mucus from two hours of nonstop crying, he turned towards me and hugged me back, and then asked me if he could have popcorn.


If I had known all he wanted was to have popcorn then I didn’t have to spend two hours with blood pressure running high, and was about to have a stroke trying to deal with his tantrums.

It seemed like he has a light switch somewhere in his head that he could easily turns it on and off as he please, leaving me in a puddle of anxiety-induce state of mind trying to decode and reconfigure how to help him process his anger and worries.

Just like that, popcorn solved the problem. I became irrelevant.